


With Benefits

by boonies



Category: Dong Bang Shin Ki, JYJ - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 22:25:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boonies/pseuds/boonies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friends who sleep together stay together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Benefits

 *

 

"We're gonna try being friends with benefits."

 

Junsu stops reading his music sheet and looks up. "What?"

 

Yoochun's standing in the studio doorway, basically just popping in to say hi. "Me and hyung."

 

Junsu's chair creaks under his weight as he swivels around. "Yeah... that seems like a healthy, sane idea."

 

"Just until the drama wraps up," Yoochun says, reasonably. "Because I can't date during."

 

"Yeah," Junsu says, fanning himself with the music sheet. "Still not seeing the logic."

 

Weird, because it sounded totally logical to Yoochun an hour ago, when Jaejoong texted him from Vietnam or Thailand or maybe Jupiter.

 

"I can't sleep," Yoochun says patiently because sometimes, Junsu requires patience. "And if I can't sleep, I can't memorize my lines." There's a third leg to this story somewhere. Oh, right. "And sex makes me sleepy."

 

Junsu gives him a look that's half resigned and half _y'all need Jesus_. "You realize you can have sex by yourself, right?"

 

"No," Yoochun grins widely. "Tell me all about it."

 

Junsu's cheeks darken and he busies himself with the console in front of him, flicking random volume knobs.

 

"Who came up with this?" he asks carefully, expression guarded. "Jaejoong-hyung?"

 

Yoochun purses his lips, surprised. "How'd you know?"

 

"Oh," Junsu mutters, "just... you know. Lucky guess."

 

Okay, cool, apparently Junsu's psychic now but Yoochun's really gotta roll. He's gotta be on set in... an hour ago, shit.

 

"Don't post this on twitter!" he warns over his shoulder.

 

"Seriously," Junsu calls out after him, "what would I even say? Who the hell replies to _I can't sleep_ with _let's fuck_?" Junsu shudders violently. "No one but you would say yes."

 

Yoochun pops his head back in, bristling. "Anyone would say yes to him."

 

He starts hurrying down the hallway, then hastily turns around and skids back into the studio. "That sounded gay. This isn't going to be gay."

 

Junsu ignores him, fiddling with the controls.

 

"This is just like that time you needed me to give you a ride to soccer practice," Yoochun tries again.

 

"HOW IS THAT ANYTHING LIKE YOU TWO HAVING SEX."

 

Yoochun isn't really sure anymore.

 

It just... it made so much perfect sense earlier.

 

Things always make sense around Jaejoong.

 

Junsu slumps over the console, face smushing against a volume lever, whining, "Now I'm gonna be stuck thinking about you two drinking wine and having sex in front of some fireplace every time I see you—"

 

"...where did the fireplace come from..."

 

"—and Jaejoong being the girl," Junsu cries out, then reconsiders, horrified, "or _you_ being the girl."

 

Yoochun's stomach is doing weird fucking things.

 

"It's not gonna be like that," he manages, mouth suddenly dry.

 

"It's totally gonna be like that," Junsu mumbles into the panel. "You're gonna do what you guys always do, except your pants will be off. And you'll get caught or start fighting and we'll have to disband—"

 

"It's just sex."

 

"It's not _just sex_ ," Junsu frowns, lifting his head to glare.

 

Yoochun really needs to go.

 

"You're acting like I'm an idiot," he says, offended, "or a teenager, or in love with him—"

 

"Yeah, being in love with him would be _crazy_ , sure," Junsu rolls his eyes, exasperated. "But having sex with him isn't."

 

That's kind of a good point, but Yoochun bulldozes over it. "It'll be fine. It's just for a little while."

 

Junsu cuts him off, frustrated. "Do you even know what to do?"

 

"It's sex," Yoochun shrugs. "How different could it be."

 

*

 

It's different.

 

In his head, there was just gonna be... sex? Somehow? General sex, getting from point a to point b, some making out, some boob action minus the boobs, probably, a couple flexible knees.

 

Just regular, normal sex, only with Jaejoong.

 

"It wasn't this awkward in my head," Jaejoong says, dropping his duffel bag in Yoochun's trunk.

 

Lightheaded, Yoochun hops around and jumps into the car and waits for Jaejoong to get in, then asks, super calmly, "You've thought about this?"

 

"A little," Jaejoong yawns, rubbing at his stubble. He flips the mirror down and checks himself out. "Everyone just assumed we had giant orgies at the dorms, so... yeah."

 

Yoochun snorts, navigating through the airport crowd. "Maybe we _should've_ had giant orgies."

 

Jaejoong looks at him, grinning. "Yeah... nah. Siwon would've been first in line."

 

"Clutching his bible..." Yoochun snickers, heart full.

 

"...saying he's only there to ~save us..."

 

Yoochun's basically giggling by the time they pull up at Jaejoong's apartment complex and then he's not laughing at all.

 

"I was... joking, by the way," Jaejoong says awkwardly, not moving from the car. "About the benefits... thing, I mean." He gives a sheepish smile, picking at invisible lint on his sweater. "Sorry if I weirded you out. I was on some crazy diet of berries and bamboo?" The next part comes out in a strained rush. "Thanks for not taking it seriously, Yoochun-ah. You know how I get. Sorry." He starts for the handle. "Sorry."

 

Oh.

 

Yoochun feels... well.

 

Not great.

 

He means to say something like _of_ _course, yeah, no problem, of course,_ but what comes out is a soft, "I took it seriously."

 

Jaejoong freezes.

 

"I took it seriously," Yoochun says, louder, in case Jaejoong didn't hear him. "I told Junsu."

 

Wide-eyed, Jaejoong snaps his head around to stare. "What."

 

Yoochun's not into half-assing things. He's gonna whole-ass this. "I told Junsu you and me are gonna be having sex this month."

 

Jaejoong's speechless.

 

Which is disconcerting because it's not easy to shut him up, normally.

 

Jaejoong takes a shaky breath, covering his mouth. "Did he jump off a bridge."

 

"Oh, probably."

 

Jaejoong lowers his hand and meets Yoochun's eyes.

 

"Okay," he says, shaking.

 

Yoochun nods. "Okay."

 

*

 

"What do we do."

 

Jaejoong seems really fucking frazzled but he gestures vaguely at his living room. "I'm gonna take a shower."

 

Yoochun nods, fidgeting. "And I'm gonna... watch TV."

 

Jaejoong flees into the bathroom and Yoochun collapses onto the ottoman, boneless.

 

In zombie mode, he watches some bizarre Japanese anime for a bit, then turns the TV off.

 

This is kind of like that one time he told everyone he really really wanted to go bungee-jumping and then, when he was being strapped in, realized he had a fucking fear of heights and asthma and what the fuck is he doing here, what the fuck is _wrong_ with him.

 

There's a difference between being too fucking comfortable with his bandmates and _comfortably_ _fucking_ his bandmates.

 

And he can't just leave, either. Not after essentially talking Jaejoong into this. Not after telling Junsu it'd be fine.

 

Shit.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

He's so full of adrenaline and anxiety and guilt he feels like he's gonna stay up for a fucking year, so all of this is a moot point, and fuck, Junsu was right and Junsu is never right—

 

The bathroom door opens, steam escaping in tufts.

 

Jaejoong strolls out warily, one towel wrapped around his waist, the other rubbing at his wet hair.

 

It's nothing Yoochun hasn't seen a million times before, but.

 

"I guess we can... start," Jaejoong says, hesitating.

 

His skin is flushed and he's not really looking at Yoochun, and Yoochun can't move, so how is this even gonna work.

 

Jaejoong makes a frustrated little noise, then says, "Come here."

 

Yoochun's brain shuts down.

 

He gets off the ottoman and joins Jaejoong in the hallway, feeling completely stupid because he's already hard and he doesn't even know why.

 

"Oh, god," Jaejoong says when he notices, then sort of just pulls Yoochun closer, clutching at his t-shirt and looking mortified.

 

"Hands," Yoochun is saying because it's the only way he sees this happening.

 

Hands are fine. Practically like doing it himself. Only not with his own hands.

 

His cock twitches against Jaejoong's towel.

 

With a groan, Jaejoong shuts his eyes tight and slams a palm against his bedroom door, coaxes it open, and drags Yoochun with him.

 

"Lights off," he says and Yoochun doesn't argue even though he bumps into a hundred pieces of furniture on the way to, presumably, the bed.

 

He wants to say something but Korean mixes with Japanese and English in his head, overwhelmed by the scent of Jaejoong's body wash and Jaejoong's shampoo and Jaejoong's shave gel and Jaejoong.

 

Besides, a hand is cupping his crotch, and then there are fingers working at his belt and his zipper and sliding into his boxer-briefs.

 

Yoochun's not sure what to do with his hands but his body bypasses him anyway and the next thing he knows, he's groping blindly for Jaejoong's towel, burying his face in Jaejoong's neck.

 

"I'm sorry," he thinks he hears Jaejoong say, and then his fingers are wrapping around Yoochun's cock, around the base, and stroking up, knuckles brushing against Yoochun's lower abdomen.

 

Briefly, Yoochun thinks things have escalated too quickly, or not quickly enough, and then Jaejoong gasps a little when his towel drops to the floor, and Yoochun can't believe they're still standing.

 

How is this not even real sex, how is he even going to last for the real sex part, how— _oh_ , he thinks as Jaejoong slides his hand up, grip loosening, thumb rubbing circles over the head of his cock.

 

Helpless, Yoochun ruts against him and touches random places on Jaejoong's body and then he just comes, spilling into Jaejoong's hand.

 

Fuck.

 

Guilt washes over him in waves.

 

Breathing harshly, Jaejoong sways, shoulders slumping, hand dropping away.

 

There's only a little bit of light coming from the hallway, but it's enough for Yoochun to see Jaejoong's fingers, sticky with come, wrap around his own cock.

 

It undoes Yoochun in a way that's not fixable.

 

Hastily, he places his hand over Jaejoong's and sets a quick, apologetic pace.

 

Jaejoong's breath hitches and Yoochun almost kisses him, but that's not part of the benefits package. So he just presses his forehead to Jaejoong's collarbone and strokes up, strokes down, pries Jaejoong's fingers away and replaces them with both hands.

 

One of his rings catches on a ridge beneath the head and Jaejoong bucks his hips closer, panting.

 

He says, "Please," and Yoochun almost drops to his knees and wraps his mouth around his cock but, fuck, that's crossing a line.

 

That's not a thing that's undoable.

 

"Please," Jaejoong says again.

 

Yoochun speeds up, alternating in the only way familiar to him, base to shaft, palm rough over the head, tugging quickly, caressing a thumb down a throbbing vein—

 

Jaejoong comes with a series of short, raspy gasps that imprint in Yoochun with a scary intensity. He spurts over Yoochun's shirt and belt buckle and his own stomach, and Yoochun can only take great big gulps of air.

 

 

*

 

"And then I went home."

 

On the other side, Junsu sounds like he's dropped his phone into a toilet bowl.

 

"Yo, you there?"

 

Junsu exhales. "You slept together. You actually had sex. I. What." There's a scuffling noise, and then he's saying, "Wait, hold on, he just texted me."

 

Yoochun's heart skips a beat.

 

"It's 2012," he snaps, irritated, glaring at his ceiling, one arm slung over his burning face. "You can text _and_ talk at the same time."

 

Junsu's quiet for the longest fucking time and then he laughs, high-pitched and obnoxious, "Oh. my. god. You two are on your own, bye."

 

Yoochun just stares at the Call Ended button until his screen darkens.

 

*

 

The drama's reaching that place where the writers have no idea where the fuck to go from here, so Yoochun's on standby.

 

In two weeks, he's written roughly seventy-nine texts to Jaejoong. He's deleted seventy-eight. He's sent one text, and it was a brusque, "Fan meet, tomorrow, noon, reminder."

 

He's gotten exactly zero replies.

 

It's a bad ratio, mathematically.

 

He's pretty wound-up by the time he gets off the set, just as dawn is breaking. He shouldn't drive home, but he's too tired to call for a ride and too tired to do anything, really, so he slinks off to his car, fumbling with his car keys.

 

And then he almost drops them.

 

Because Jaejoong is leaning against Yoochun's car, bent over his phone, sunglasses on and hair a frizzy mess.

 

"I said noon," Yoochun hears himself say.

 

Jaejoong looks up.

 

"Yeah," he nods. "I figured you'd want to nap."

 

Wordlessly, Yoochun hands him the keys and slips into the passenger seat.

 

They're almost to Jaejoong's apartment when Jaejoong blows through a red light.

 

"Shit," he says, checking the rear-view mirror for cops and cameras. "Sorry."

 

Yoochun means to say _you're paying for the ticket, asshole,_ but what comes out is a quiet, "Go faster."

 

Jaejoong runs two more red lights and probably breaks the sound barrier at some point and Yoochun doesn't really remember the elevator ride or Jaejoong tapping in his passwords or getting to the apartment, but all of that happens in what feels like a heartbeat.

 

"I," he says, tripping over words, "shower."

 

Good enough.

 

He doesn't wait for Jaejoong's reply, just stumbles into the bathroom, sheds his clothes wherever, and starts the water. He steps into the shower like a maniac, chanting _nope nope nope_ in his head.

 

His cock replies with _yes yes yes_.

 

He should just... take care of himself here, quickly, and crash on Jaejoong's couch and go back to zero benefits.

 

...or Jaejoong could join him in the shower.

 

"Your hair's too short for this," Jaejoong says.

 

Yoochun's lips part. His heart's not really working. His mouth isn't either, but he whispers, "For what?"

 

"This," Jaejoong says and drops to his knees.

 

Oh, Yoochun thinks as he buries his fingers in Jaejoong's hair.

 

It's not like he hasn't gotten blowjobs before and it's not like this is game level: expert, because Jaejoong seems a little confused, too, in terms of where to lick, but Yoochun's already _ready_.

 

If he looks down, he's going to come.

 

Shit, it's not like he's trying to break some sort of speed record and fuck, what kind of a horrible impression has he already left on—

 

Jaejoong's mouth closes around his cock, hot and wet, tongue flattening against the head.

 

Yoochun's knees buckle.

 

His eyes sting from the shampoo, except he didn't even get to the shampoo part, so what the hell is wrong with him. He's tired, but he's been this tired before and hasn't been a crybaby about it.

 

He brings one arm up to shield his face from the water, from Jaejoong, if he's looking, and leans into the wall, faucet digging into the back of his legs.

 

"Chun-ah," Jaejoong says around his cock and Yoochun fucks up.

 

Looks down.

 

It's not an image he'll be able to erase.

 

Jaejoong on his knees, lips stretched and glistening, hair slicked back with water, eyes hooded with lust.

 

"Fuck," Yoochun says, thrusting his hips.

 

Jaejoong grips the base of his cock tightly, brows drawing together.

 

Dazed, Yoochun catches his breath, cock pulsing, gut coiling tight.

 

"Why," is all the coherency he can afford, but one of Jaejoong's hands slips down to cup his balls, and Yoochun vaguely remembers people like to be warned and given a choice.

 

But Yoochun doesn't want to warn him or give him a choice.

 

He wants to come in Jaejoong's mouth.

 

Can't even feel guilty about it.

  

*

 

"And then I fell asleep."

 

"I REALLY DON'T NEED TO KNOW ANY OF THIS," Junsu cries into the phone.

 

"I'm a horrible person," Yoochun says, dragging a hand over his face, sitting buck-naked on Jaejoong's empty bed.

 

"You're a horrible person," Junsu confirms with a sigh.

 

"I don't know where he went," Yoochun says, chest tight.

 

"Well," Junsu deadpans, "considering the meet starts in twenty minutes and _he's_ not an idiot..."

 

Shit.

 

Phone pressed between his cheek and shoulder, Yoochun scours the place for his clothes but they're all probably still fucking wet and gross on the bathroom floor, so he slips into a pair of Jaejoong's favorite old jeans and a clean shirt and heads for the door.

 

"Stall," he pants into the phone.

 

Junsu just sighs.

 

*

 

"...and Park Yoochun..." the MC announces, glancing nervously beyond the stage, "who is unfortunately still on the set for his new dram—oh, he's here. And Park Yoochun, everyone!"

 

Yoochun strolls onto the stage, bowing, perhaps a little more politely than usual. He takes his spot, on Jaejoong's left, as always, and smiles at the fans.

 

The session's pretty standard, in that they play silly games and shake hands and bully Junsu and nothing much has changed.

 

Nothing is different.

 

It's so un-different that Junsu watches them suspiciously after they get backstage.

 

"I'm happy to see bad sex hasn't fucked shit up," he tells them, pumping a fist and giving himself a literal pat on the back. "Kim Junsu, fighting!"

 

Startled, Jaejoong pauses in the middle of a long hallway. "You told him the sex was bad?"

 

Yoochun has no idea where any of this is coming from, but Jaejoong's lips are parted in a way that makes Yoochun remember, so he can't do words right now.

 

Junsu interprets this as an invitation to translate. "He said there was some one-sided swallowing going on." He pauses as the words process. "Ugh, gross. I hate you."

 

Yoochun needs to throw out some words before this gets any worse.

 

"We haven't even had sex," Jaejoong says casually, shrugging.

 

Yoochun frowns.

 

"I don't want any details when and if you do," Junsu scowls, wiping at his forehead. "I don't wanna know who came when or where or how—"

 

One of the staff ladies nearby chokes, accidentally looping a wire around herself in distress.

 

Junsu's eyes widen. "Sorry, noona!" he shrieks loudly. "Noona, no! I was talking about... schedules..."

 

He hurries off to do damage control, and suddenly, Yoochun and Jaejoong are alone.

 

The smart thing would be to make fun of Junsu, but Yoochun says, very seriously, "You don't think that was sex?"

 

Jaejoong shrugs one shoulder.

 

"Okay," Yoochun grunts and stalks away.

 

*

 

The drama's an emotionally draining mess.

 

Yoochun's had to cry so much he's basically dehydrated but it's done, it's over.

 

He can have some time off before he's stupid enough to sign up for another one.

 

He can also fuck Jae.

 

It's been a constant thing in his head, alternately making him insecure and intent and remorseful.

 

Jaejoong's back to normal, which is... okay.

 

For now.

 

Yoochun checks his phone.

 

There's a text from the idiot, saying: _hey, what kind of batteries do I need for my remote?_

 

So Yoochun puts on a hoodie, pulls it tight around his face, slaps on some sunglasses, and drives to a corner pharmacy after the wrap-party.

 

He probably looks suspicious as all fuck buying a thing of batteries, lube, condoms, and coffee, but eh.

 

His browsing history's way more incriminating anyway.

 

He's had to ask Yoohwan to reformat his hard-drive. Twice. Mainly because he looked up the mechanics of gay sex and then realized a search history is forever. But at least he knows stuff now. He can do this properly. It's not all that different from the sex he's had before.

 

Basically.

 

"What are you doing here?" Jaejoong asks when Yoochun slips into his apartment.

 

"I know your passwords," Yoochun grins, tossing a plastic bag on the counter.

 

Jaejoong, who's been busy taking pictures of his lamps, apparently, lowers his phone. "I meant... don't you have an after-after-after party or something?"

 

"You need batteries."

 

"What?"

 

"For your remote."

 

Jaejoong's expression softens. "Yeah."

 

He drops his phone on the couch and ambles over to the counter, fingers reaching for the plastic bag.

 

Yoochun's heart is racing, screaming for oxygen.

 

Chuckling, Jaejoong digs into the bag and then his eyes widen and his posture stiffens and then he's looking at Yoochun with such an intense look Yoochun's surprised the apartment hasn't caught on fire. At least the curtains. They look pretty flammable.

 

"It's water-based," he says because he doesn't know what else to say. "I researched."

 

"You researched," Jaejoong breathes out, gripping the small box.

 

"And I brought coffee."

 

"Coffee," Jaejoong nods, distractedly reading the back of the box. He leans into the counter and shuts his eyes tight. "Fuck."

 

Equally amused and alarmed, Yoochun points over his shoulder at the bedroom. "That's the plan, yeah."

 

Jaejoong looks at him, slowly.

 

Yoochun's grin fades.

 

"Yeah," Jaejoong says, mostly to himself, then starts for Yoochun, grabs his hand, and tugs him to the bedroom.

 

He tosses the box on the bed and tries to take off his shirt and Yoochun's never seen him like this before.

 

"You're gonna rip it," Yoochun says stupidly.

 

Jaejoong stops fighting his clothes. "I don't care."

 

"I care," Yoochun says. "You stole that shirt from me."

 

Jaejoong's expression is unreadable when he says, "Then take it back."

 

Yoochun steps closer, hands trembling. Nervously, he wraps his fingers around the edges. Jaejoong raises his arms. Yoochun pulls the shirt off.

 

Instinctively, his gaze slips to the tattoo above Jaejoong's heart.

 

And then he kisses it.

 

Instantly, Jaejoong tangles his fingers in Yoochun's hair.

 

"This is why it needs to be longer," he complains but his hands are so gentle Yoochun sighs into his skin, mouthing a silent agreement.

 

This has to make up, Yoochun thinks desperately, for all the selfish bullshit of the past month, for the awkward silence and the fumbling handjob and the nonreciprocating blowjob and just...

 

"Everything."

 

Jaejoong doesn't ask, probably doesn't need to. He just slides his hands down to Yoochun's shoulders and pulls him up.

 

He undresses Yoochun more gracefully than he'd tried to undress himself. "Fast or slo—"

 

Yoochun kisses him.

 

The pants are gone and Yoochun thinks about the forgotten box of condoms in the kitchen.

 

But then they're on the bed, Yoochun beneath Jaejoong, the other box poking into Yoochun's back. He twists a shoulder to retrieve it and tries to open it neatly but Jaejoong takes it from his fingers with a frustrated huff.

 

He rips into the box, startling Yoochun.

 

"Sorry," he says but he doesn't seem all that sorry as he pops the cap off the tube, sending it flying off the bed.

 

This is a totally foreign situation for Yoochun but stupidly, he spreads his legs and Jaejoong immediately sinks between them, cocks rubbing against each other.

 

"Oh god," Yoochun groans, arching up.

 

This is not how he thought things would go. He read up on how many fingers and at what angle and for how long, but this.

 

This is not going there, apparently.

 

Small tube gingerly held between his teeth, Jaejoong lifts up his hips a little and shimmies out of his boxers, then tugs Yoochun's briefs down. The tube disappears to the side, cold against Yoochun's hip.

 

"I'm sorry," Jaejoong says again and this time he looks sorry. "Is this okay?"

 

Yoochun knows exactly what he's asking and it's probably, word for word, _can I fuck you?_

 

It's not even remotely close to what Yoochun expected, but his cock jumps at the thought, at the look in Jaejoong's eyes, at his voice, at sharing something perfectly new with him.

 

"Yeah," he rasps out, and then Jaejoong is scrambling for the tube, squeezing wildly. Lube spills out in a gunky mess and drips down Jaejoong's hand and Yoochun can't stop staring.

 

Very focused, Jaejoong wipes the extra lube off Yoochun's stomach and coats his fingers, a few knuckles skimming against Yoochun's cock.

 

"Sorry," Jaejoong says for the third time and this time, Yoochun thinks it means _sorry for not going slow_ because the next thing he knows, Jaejoong's brushing his fingers, barely touching, down the length of Yoochun's cock and, with a little more pressure, down his balls, and then one of his fingers is pressing in.

 

"Oh, god, wait," Yoochun says, hands flying to Jaejoong's shoulders.

 

Panting, Jaejoong stops.

 

Everything feels crazy and overwhelming and Yoochun hasn't prepared for this in any way. He wants to say all of that but instead he just looks at Jaejoong with panicked eyes and Jaejoong smiles warmly.

 

"Got it," he says with a small nod, and presses his lips to Yoochun's.

 

He kisses him senseless, kisses him until Yoochun is burning up and wrapping his legs around Jaejoong and not caring that there are fingers pushing past a tight ring of muscle, stretching him.

 

He's hovering on the edge of a surprise-orgasm when Jaejoong pulls away a little and grabs for the lube again, slicking himself up.

 

"Don't say sorry again," Yoochun grunts when Jaejoong returns to his arms.

 

Jaejoong laughs, soft breaths falling against Yoochun's neck. One hand disappears between their bodies and then Yoochun feels a slow, impossible stretch. Jaejoong nudges just the head in, but it's an intrusive, uncomfortable sort of pain and Yoochun doesn't want to move.

 

"Can I..." Jaejoong asks through the death-grip Yoochun has on his arms.

 

Yoochun doesn't know the answer to that but he always says yes to Jaejoong and it always works out, so he manages a small nod, wincing.

 

Jaejoong thrusts in gradually, and it's a slow, sharp burn, way more pain than pleasure.

 

Yoochun's too out of it, really, to tell if Jaejoong's buried to the hilt, but it feels like it, feels like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly into a corner piece. There's a slight shift and then it's really only pleasure; a weird, instant switch that leaves him throbbing and completely messed up.

 

"I have to..." Jaejoong breathes out, arms shaking. He pulls out a little, gives a shallow thrust, then another one, and four more, and Yoochun understands the world and the universe and life perfectly for a moment.

 

"Fuck," he says, breath catching, as Jaejoong suddenly lifts one of Yoochun's knees and unceremoniously bends his right leg to his chest.

 

"Trust me," Jaejoong murmurs, and angles his hips, gives a sharp, long thrust and fuck, fuuuuck. Fuck.

 

"I read," Yoochun says because he can't control his mouth, "about this. Jae. I."

 

Jaejoong's not listening.

 

His face is flushed and beautiful and he looks ready to come, hard.

 

Yoochun feels oddly validated.

 

"Sorry—" Jaejoong says suddenly and slips a hand between their bodies, gripping Yoochun's cock.

 

Yoochun realizes, belatedly, that Jaejoong is coming inside him, spilling hot and wet and deep, sighing _Chun-ah_.

 

It's a throbbing, pulsing mess that pulls at Yoochun, stretching him in every direction. There's a slick kind of friction from Jaejoong's fingers and a burning fullness inside him and soft lips on his jaw.

 

The orgasm washes over him in waves, cresting in a weird, toe-curling sequence, punctuated by a needy little, " _Holy. fucking. shit_."

 

 

*

 

Jaejoong's promoting a solo project and Junsu's recording.

 

Yoochun's stuck answering questions about his drama and its mostly lackluster, pretty ambiguous finale, and then some journalist asks him if he's dating, or would date, or ever thought about dating, his co-star.

 

He gives a well-practiced ~great noona, precious sunbae answer and then, when he's driving home, he frowns.

 

True, he's got time now. To date. Secretly or otherwise. People generally expect him to anyway, since they inexplicably keep linking him with everyone from Ji Min-noona to Ji Hyo-noona and... yeah. He should date again.

 

Be normal.

 

Besides, his schedule's gonna be pretty flexible for roughly a month. He'll get all the sleep he needs. Have all the time to take a girlfriend out to dinner. To buy her stuff. To enjoy her cooking. To watch cartoons with her.

 

To record songs together.

 

His phone beeps.

 

He checks it during a red light and it's from Jaejoong.

 

_My sister's friend wants me to set her up with you. The friend. Not my sister._

 

Yoochun won't text while driving, but his fingers are itching to reply.

 

Another text lights up the screen.

 

_She looks like that girl from that... one drama? Anyway. I gave her your number._

 

Yoochun almost swerves into oncoming traffic, narrowly avoiding a delivery truck.

 

His stomach is clenching kinda painfully and he's not really familiar with this emotion, so he picks up his phone and speed-dials Jaejoong.

 

The bastard doesn't pick up.

 

Yoochun dials Junsu next.

 

"NO GROSS DETAILS," Junsu warns preemptively.

 

"He wants me to date some girl," Yoochun says, tapping his fingers on the wheel.

 

"What?" Junsu says, a loud instrumental version of some song blaring in the background. "Like, a threesome?"

 

"No," Yoochun grumbles, stopping at another fucking red light. Fucking red lights, being fucking red. "He's breaking up with me."

 

"...you're not dating..."

 

"I _know_ that," Yoochun snaps, glaring at the light until it turns green. "But you don't just cut off someone's benefits like this. You need written notice." He's driving between two lanes, shit. "You don't just..."

 

There's a long silence and then Junsu sighs. "I told you."

 

*

 

Yoochun parks himself at the kitchen island.

 

He goes through a whole bowl of some organic snack shit, munching angrily.

 

Jaejoong strolls into the apartment at some ungodly hour, makeup still on, hair mostly flawless.

 

"Did she call you?" he asks from the doorway, taking his shoes off.

 

"I wanna have sex."

 

Jaejoong drops a slipper. "With her?"

 

"With you."

 

Jaejoong grins awkwardly. "It's been a month."

 

Grumpy, Yoochun pokes around in the empty snack bowl. "And we only had sex three times." He does a quick recalibration. "Once, by your math."

 

Jaejoong takes a wary seat across him at the kitchen island. "So... how many times are we supposed to have sex?"

 

God, why is he so weird.

 

Why are they both so fucking weird.

 

"We can have sex right now," Yoochun says and his body rejoices, basically conducting a ticker-tape parade inside him. "And then in the morning. And then after lunch. And the day after. And after that."

 

Jaejoong's looking at him with a strange expression. "That's called being a couple."

 

"Okay," Yoochun shrugs.

 

Jaejoong stares.

 

"Okay."

 

*

 

"Text him about that thing I did."

 

Jaejoong laughs, sprawled atop Yoochun, lazily scrolling through his phone. "Which one."

 

Yoochun runs a hand down Jaejoong's bare back, down to his ass, curling his fingers over one cheek.

 

"Oh," Jaejoong says, "that thing."

 

He's texting with one finger, barely awake, hair a mess and tickling Yoochun's collarbones, so Yoochun takes the phone and thumbs in a couple of graphic details and presses send.

 

Jaejoong licks at his shoulder while they wait for a reply, teeth dragging across flushed skin.

 

The phone chimes.

 

Yoochun checks and it's come back as _Error: Invalid Number. Please re-send, using a valid_ —

 

"He blocked us," he grins, tossing the phone to the blanket.

 

Jaejoong's lips curl against Yoochun's shoulder. "We gotta meet up for a DVD special tomorrow."

 

Yoochun wraps his arms around Jaejoong, running one foot up his calf. "Leave marks he can see."

 

Jaejoong's already on it.


End file.
